Abandonment Issues
by Cats070911
Summary: After witnessing another death, Tommy and Barbara are sent to counselling. Will they unpack their issues and come to understand that in each other they have their salvation?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. Warning: minor character death. Sorry, it's been a while. Life has been... complicated.

"Over there."

Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley turned in the direction his boss was pointing. A dark figure dashed into the treeline about fifty metres ahead. Tommy took several steps to his left towards his sergeant. "Havers, we need backup. If he gets into that forest, we'll lose him."

"Sir was that...?" Havers never finished her sentence. Tommy turned towards her just as she appeared to fall. Before anything could register, she had tackled him to the ground and was lying on top of him.

"What on earth?" Just then the sharp report from a rifle cracked. "He's shooting at us."

"Good job you're a detective." Barbara Havers kept her weight on him as if scared he would stand up.

"I'm not a fool. You can get off me." He saw her eyes shift and instantly regretted his words. He had not meant to sound harsh. As she began to rise he grabbed her arms and pulled her back down.

"What? You told me..."

"It might be dangerous." He rolled them so they were on their sides. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Tommy reached over and pushed some grass away from her eye. "Thinking of me. Tackling me."

She shrugged. "Too much paperwork if you get... where's Hillier?"

Lynley had completely forgotten about him. The Assistant Commissioner had arrived without warning, and they had lost valuable time briefing him while their main suspect had jumped over the old stone bridge at the edge of the village and fled down the gully. "He was with me by the tree."

They both commando-crawled on their stomachs towards where he and Tommy had been standing. Slumped beneath the only tree in the field was the crumpled figure of their boss. "Sir?" Barbara called softly.

There was no answer. As they continued to move towards Hillier, Barbara was faster. When she stopped abruptly, Tommy's momentum carried him over her legs. He came to a halt with his face on her backside. As awkward and ridiculous as it felt, lying there was also comforting. Thoughts of using her backside regularly as a pillow vanished with her words, "Oh god, I just put my hand in a pool of warm blood."

**Ten days later**

"That was a lovely eulogy, Sir," Winston said as they climbed into the Bristol.

"Thank you." It had felt hollow and insincere but he had forced himself to praise the Assistant Commissioner despite their past differences. "Are you okay, Barbara?"

In the passenger seat, his partner sat stiffly staring out the window. "Suppose."

Tommy glanced over. "Havers?"

She shook her head, in the window's reflection he could see a weak smile. "I'm fine. Really."

She looked grey and the dark swellings under her eyes suggested she was not sleeping well. "Okay, but I think you should have a few days off. Just to... let things settle."

She turned to him. "Not you too."

"What?"

Barbara grunted then began to fossick in her over-large handbag. "Here," she said pulling out an envelope she had obviously scrunched up to throw away before changing her mind. "I am ordered to fill this out and return it and then attend an hour of compulsory counselling."

Tommy laughed. "I got one too. They do that now after any incident. Probably so we don't sue them later."

"I'm not going. I'm not traumatised by Hillier's death."

"My letter mentioned cumulative incidents."

"Yeah, mine too."

"We should just go and be done with it." Barbara made a noise that sounded distinctly feline. "Havers?"

"Yes, all right. I don't have any bloody choice, do I? How's your new girlfriend, Winston?"

Tommy had forgotten Winston was there. In his rear-view mirror, his constable looked uncomfortable as if he was intruding on something private. "Oh, okay, thanks."

Tommy glanced over at his sergeant. Something was troubling her, and that troubled him.

**Five Days Later**

Tommy was running slightly late to the office, but his team had been nowhere in sight. After opening his blinds, he logged into his computer then pulled the pile of mail towards him. He yawned as he opened the first envelope. It was the monthly crime report. He shook his head unable to fathom why the department did not issue it electronically. He had tossed and turned all night and had weird dreams about travelling on a train as it wound through wooded hills in the Ukraine. Since waking he had been pondering how he knew it was the Ukraine. He picked up the next envelope. It was from the psychologist, so he put it aside. If he did not open it, he would not have to make an appointment today.

He settled down to read his email. There was nothing interesting. Since the shooting and capture of Hillier's killer, they had not had a case to work on. Not that London was suddenly less violent. Tommy suspected it was because they did not have clearance from the psychologist. He bowed to the inevitable and picked up the envelope. With a sigh, he inserted his letter opener.

His door flew open and slammed back against the filing cabinet. "I'm not doing it."

"Doing what, Havers?"

Barbara shook an identical envelope in the air. "Going with you."

"O-kay..."

His sergeant stormed up to his desk and leant over towards him. "Are you planning on stabbing me?"

"No. Sorry." Tommy lowered the letter opener that he had unconsciously brought up in front of him. "I thought you were a madman the way the door burst open."

Barbara waved her envelope in his face. "Did you suggest this?"

"Calm down."

"I don't want to calm down."

"Then I suggest you leave and come back when you are capable of civility."

Barbara sagged into his visitor's chair like a deflating bouncy castle. "Sorry. But I don't want this."

"Whatever _this_ is. I was just opening mine when you... appeared. Now, what is so..." He picked up his envelope and tore it open. He read the letter quickly. "Oh, I see. Is this the part you don't like? 'As you and Sergeant Havers returned complementary surveys, I believe you would both benefit from attending counselling together'."

"Yeah, that's the part I don't like. You make it sound so... banal."

"We can ask not to do that, and just go separately."

"I don't want to go at all."

Tommy nodded, then smiled. "You know, if we comply, it is one hour _between_ us, not one hour each."

Barbara cocked her head to the left. "Less attention on either of us?"

He nodded. "We can just talk in generalisations rather than say anything too personal."

Barbara sat up straighter. "You're a genius."

"Thank you for finally noticing."

Her eyes narrowed, but her smile gave her away. "Fancy a drink?"

"It's only 8 a.m."

"Not now. Tonight. After work."

He smiled. "What about drinks then dinner? We can plan our strategy."

"Deal. Your shout though if this is work-related. Claim it on expenses."

Tommy laughed. He would pay, but not claim it back. "Let's try to finish by five. That way we can have a long evening together."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "To plan?"

Tommy tried to look casual. "Of course. So, the sooner I do my case reviews, the sooner we can leave."

Barbara sighed then stood and stretched. "Lousy night's sleep. I dreamt I was on a train..."

"In the forest in the Ukraine?"

"What? No, stuck at Westbourne Park, why?"

"No reason."

**Dinner**

Instead of their usual pub, Tommy selected one well away from the Met. "I thought it would be more private," he said as he pushed open the door.

"Sure. Is the food any good?"

"I believe so."

Barbara stopped, and Tommy crashed into her. "It's a junk shop."

"No, it's eclectic."

"If that means it has junk hanging from the ceilings, then yeah, it's eclectic."

Tommy laughed and with his hand in the small of her back, guided her inside. He was used to the appearance, one which made it a popular stop for tourists. The well-worn carpet was a loud mix of British loyalty in a very nineteenth-century pattern that looked as if the Union Jack had melted together with the carpet from the House of Commons. Dark timber furniture with brown leather worn smooth by centuries of patrons seemed to vanish into the even darker timbers of all the interior surfaces, broken only by ornately panelled windows where the glass had not seen a cleaning cloth in at least a hundred years. As he guided her towards the stairs, he ducked under one of the many dusty brass and copper pots and lamps hanging from the low ceiling.

"What is this place?"

"A pub."

"When we walked through the door, did we step back a few centuries? There're no lights, only those lamps on the windowsills."

"Upstairs is less... Bohemian."

Tommy led her up the narrow staircase barely wide enough for his hips. He ducked at the top to enter the small hallway. Off to the left, there was a bar in front of one rickety table barely large enough to hold two beers. "You call this private? It's..."

"Not where we are sitting." He grinned at her as he opened a door on the right revealing a room that had once been an old bedroom, but now housed a small dining table set with a crisp white tablecloth and oversized silver cutlery.

"Sir, this is... crazy."

"We need to have a little crazy in our lives every now an again, don't we?"

Barbara shrugged then gave him the broadest smile he had seen from her in months. "Yeah, we do."

"I should warn you, they only have one menu, but I think you'll enjoy it. Can I get you a drink?"

"Something ... strong."

He nodded. "I know just the thing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Days Later**

Tommy held open the door and allowed Barbara to enter first. The room was typical Harley Street—expensively decorated to assert the prestige of the doctor.

"Wanky swanky," Barbara murmured.

"What?"

"You heard me. Your word would be pretentious, but you probably like this decor. Real toff stuff. Too chintzy for the likes of me."

Tommy looked around. "And me."

Two large mahogany windows framed by dusty blue curtains made from thick, watermarked taffeta dominated the otherwise duck-egg white room. Through the small square window panes, Tommy could see the BT Tower rise above the city like an alien invader. Three oxblood Chesterfield wing chairs sat in a triangle in one corner. On the wall closest to the door, there were two matching Chesterfield chaise lounges with a tall wing chair between them. The leather looked weatherbeaten and rippled from countless patients lying to confess their deepest thoughts. Two chairs seemed odd. The doctor must do a lot of couples therapy.

"It's not actually chintz. Chintz has..." Tommy saw her expression. "Never mind."

Barbara snorted and looked around. "I am not lying down to do this."

"Agreed. We can sit in the chairs."

"Good morning."

Tommy turned to see an auburn-haired woman who looked like she had just stepped off a Katharine Hepburn film set. Dressed in cream wide-flowing pleated trousers cinched in above the waist to accentuate her perfect hourglass figure, her legs seemed to glide as she walked towards them. A navy knitted top that was at least one size too small for her voluptuous chest left nothing to his imagination. He tried hard to focus on the red scarf knotted around her neck and fastened with a brooch shaped like a dachshund.

The woman smiled. "Welcome. I'm Doctor Pamela Thomas. The Met has appointed me as your trauma counsellor."

Tommy extended his hand. "Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley, and my partner Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers."

"Too many Thomases. I believe your friends call you Tommy. May I call you Tommy? Call me Pamela."

He nodded. "Pamela."

"I'll stick to Doctor," a gruff voice to his left said aggressively.

Tommy had almost forgotten Barbara was there. He turned and frowned. If she made trouble, they would be here longer than necessary. Barbara half-rolled her eyes but gave a quick nod.

"Whatever makes you more comfortable. Shall we sit?" Pamela moved with unerring grace towards the wing chairs. Tommy tried hard not to stare.

He waited until the ladies sat before he lowered himself onto the soft leather. He watched the doctor closely as she turned over a page in her book then pulled spectacles from her hip pocket. He did not understand where she could have hidden them. She looked up and smiled. "Thank you both for agreeing to meet together. I thought it might speed things up. How long have you been partners?"

"Nearly ten years," Barbara replied.

"Without promotion? Why is that?"

"We're good at what we do," Barbara said a little too quickly, "the Met doesn't want to promote us."

Pamela removed her glasses and twirled them slowly. "That's not entirely true is it?"

Barbara shrugged then crossed her arms and wriggled back in her chair. "Yeah."

The doctor smiled and turned to Tommy. He knew what was coming. "Tommy?"

"Er, I have chosen to stay at my current level."

Barbara glared at him. "Why?"

He glared back. It was not an argument he wanted to have in front of a psychologist. "The timing was bad."

"Each of the four occasions?" Pamela asked.

Tommy looked down. "Mmm."

Barbara snorted. "Four times? You never mentioned it once."

"I wasn't taking it, so it wasn't relevant."

Barbara opened her mouth but quickly shut it. She gave him a curt nod and the briefest of smiles. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pamela studying their interaction. He felt he had to explain. "The first time, Barbara's father had died and she... had other things on her mind so a change of work partner would not have been ideal."

"I would have coped. I always do."

"The second occasion was after I had recently married, and... was adjusting to my new domestic situation. The third time was after Barbara was shot, my unborn son died and my wife had left me. I needed Bar... the stability of Barbara's friendship and her complementary investigative skills. I can't remember a fourth time."

Pamela was still twirling her glasses. "Really? My notes say it was only a few months ago."

Tommy shrugged. He remembered but had no reasonable excuse.

"I see," Pamela said. "What are your thoughts, Barbara?"

"The DI makes his own decisions. It's his career."

"What about you? Are you ambitious?"

"Not particularly. Being sergeant works for me."

The doctor scribbled a note. "I'm glad to hear that. Now you two have a reputation for having a volatile relationship."

"We don't have a relationship," Barbara shot back emphasising the word relationship far too much. "We are work partners."

Pamela scribbled furiously before looking up and smiling. "I meant it in the generic sense. We all have a form of relationship with everyone we interact with. I hear you argue a lot."

"Yeah," Barbara said with the hint of inevitability.

"No, we don't." It offended Tommy that Barbara thought they argued. "We debate the merits of different aspects of issues."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "We bicker about things. We have very different perspectives on most things."

"No, we don't. Just with some things, like class privilege."

Barbara looked at Pamela. "He knows all about it whereas I come from a very humble background."

"Our family history is not relevant," Tommy snapped, "it means nothing. I have told you that. Repeatedly."

"Enough." Pamela shook her head.

Tommy looked at Barbara who looked equally guilty. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Yeah, me too."

The doctor jotted down her thoughts before answering. "Accepted. Now, are you curious about why I wanted to see you together?"

Barbara shook her head. "Because we were both there when Hillier was shot."

"Not really. It's because you both seem to suffer from the same issue, and I think it is affecting your work and your relationship."

"We are the most successful team at the Met," Tommy corrected her. "Barbara and I are different people but we would trust each other with our lives. Our souls. Our relationship may be unorthodox, but it works."

For the first time that afternoon, Barbara smiled. "Yeah, it does. So can we go now?"

Pamela looked at each of them. "After reviewing your notes after Assistant Commissioner Hillier's death, I believe you both suffer from abandonment issues and that prevents you from becoming as close as you would both like to be."

"We are close." Barbara almost spat the words at the doctor.

"I agree. We don't have abandonment issues. Neither of us liked... was close to the Assistant Commissioner."

Pamela paused to annotate a previous comment. "I think it started well before that incident. It underlines everything you do, and be assured, you both have similar issues. It manifests as arguments."

Tommy folded his arms. He looked over to see Barbara adopting the same protective stance. He felt uncomfortable, but he worried about how she might react. Pamela was studying them closely, and that made him feel worse. "If you mean Helen, then it's more complicated than feeling abandoned," he said mainly to ensure the doctor did not direct her attention to Barbara.

Pamela sighed then smiled. "It started a lot earlier, didn't it, Tommy?"

Barbara frowned at him. He could tell that she was curious. "My father didn't want to die young if that is what you are referring to. He didn't abandon me."

"Ah, now we start to get close," Pamela said with a smile. "Tell me about it. How you felt."

Tommy had never discussed what happened with Barbara. He felt guilty and ashamed. Now his face flushed hotly as her eyes expressed concern rather than the curiosity he expected. He took a deep breath.

"And my brother didn't want to die either." Tommy smiled at her. Barbara had said it to take the spotlight off him. With Pamela turned to her, but Barbara looking only at him, he mouthed a thank you.

"You are both right. Neither wanted to die, but it's not their deaths I am referring to but the aftermath. Tommy became estranged from his mother and baby brother, and you from your parents. You are both angry and embittered about your experiences. Neither of you has resolved it, and it affects you. Every day it affects how you behave with each other and the world."

"Psychopiffle," Barbara said as she pulled her arms more tightly around her.

For not the first time, Tommy wanted it to be his arms around her shielding her from the world. Not just now, but always. He had tried hard to pretend it was just a deep friendship that he sometimes overstepped with inappropriate thoughts, but here in this strained environment, he knew that Barbara was the only person he wanted to tell about his past and he was the only one with whom he wanted her to share hers. He had told Helen, but she had mocked him. He knew Barbara would understand. When her eyes met his, she frowned before relief flashed in her eyes.

"It may be uncomfortable," Pamela said evenly, "but it is true. We don't have to go into detail if that makes you uncomfortable, but from your observed reactions, and reports, I think you know I am right. People with abandonment issues react in one of two ways, they either withdraw fearing they will lose everyone they get close to, or they overcompensate by clinging on and trying to please everyone, and always be overly generous or accepting abuse or being ignored or mistreated just so they don't lose that person."

Tommy and Barbara looked at each other. "I..." she started before looking down and shaking her head.

"If you were going to say that you can't decide which you are, it's because you are both. Barbara, with the world you are angry and withdrawn. With Tommy, you can't always maintain that, so try hard to please him. He is the same with you, isn't he?"

"No, he's not." Barbara looked up. "I... can't do this." She stood.

"You don't have to, Barbara." Tommy leapt from his seat and took a step towards her.

"Actually, you do," Pamela said. "I need to certify you fit for full duties, and at the moment I can't do that for either of you."

Tommy turned. "That's ridiculous. If you are right, and I am not saying you are, then we have had these issues for years. It doesn't affect our work."

"Maybe not," the doctor replied, "but you need to talk about it or it will consume you. We can do that here under my guidance, or you could go away and think about it, and then talk to each other. In my professional opinion, a good heart-to-heart would do you both the world of good. But you have to be brutally honest. You can't be defensive or scared that when you open up the other will abandon you. It won't happen. You need each other."

Tommy looked up from the floor towards his partner. Her face was so red that it could have stopped the traffic on the high street. She glanced at him then ran from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Thanks for your reviews, glad you are enjoying my 'return'.

* * *

As she stepped from the lift, Barbara heard the squeaking echo of leather shoes running on marble stairs. Tommy slid around the corner. His suit jacket had slipped off one shoulder and gaped open. His hair flopped over his eye as he slowed.

"Barbara, wait."

"I had to get out of that room."

"I..." He looked her up and down then. "I understand."

"I wasn't leaving without you."

"I know. I think we need to..."

"Talk?"

He shrugged. "I was going to say have a drink."

It was his remedy for everything, but at the moment, it was the only thing that might stop her shaking. "Where's the nearest pub?"

He grinned at her. She could see the fear in his eyes dissipating. "I suggest my place."

Barbara frowned. "Why? So we can talk?"

He shrugged again. This time he also flicked his jacket, so it settled back on his shoulder. He was smooth; she had to give him that.

"No, Barbara, unless you want to. That was confronting. I just want to be somewhere we can relax. If you have enough whisky, we could go to your flat."

"How much is enough?" she asked, worried that his thoughts seemed focussed on drowning his sorrows. From what he had said in Dr Thomas' office, there were far too many to drown in one evening without alcohol poisoning. "Your place is fine."

They walked in silence to the car. He drove slowly, never taking his eyes from the road.

Once safely inside his townhouse, Tommy suggested they sit in his study. Normally he entertained her in his reception room or more informally in the living room off his kitchen. One wall was filled with green and brown leather covered tomes sitting within heavy mahogany bookshelves. An antique desk with inlaid leather blotter sat formidably in the centre of the room. Behind it was a Chesterfield office chair made to look like a wing chair complete with the traditional oxblood colouring that Barbara had always hated. A matching sofa sat under the window between thick maroon curtains held open by a thick matching strip braided in a thin gold rope. The curtains annoyed her even more. Dark and masculine, the room had a heavy odour of musty books. "No wonder you never bring me in here."

"Why?"

"It's very... earlish."

"Earlish?"

Barbara nodded. "I wonder if they sell scented candles to suit this... ambience."

Tommy frowned. "Probably. Pine forest and old leather."

"I was thinking of tobacco and whisky."

She expected him to be insulted. Instead, he laughed before pouring a generous finger of scotch into a glass which he handed to her. He then poured enough to be a whole hand into the other. "That's a lot of relaxing, Sir."

His smile was brief and thin-lipped. "Dutch courage. I have decided I should tell you everything about what happened when my father died."

Wanting to reassure him but not knowing quite what to do, she put her hand on his arm. "You don't have to, Sir."

"I know. I want to. It's long overdue, and... you deserve the truth. Shall will sit?"

Barbara shook her head. "Can we..." Tommy's face had fallen as if she had rejected him. "This room," she said gesturing with her hand, "it's... gloomy. Why don't we move into your reception room or somewhere more... friendly?"

"More conducive to conversation?"

"More conducive to me not thinking I have travelled a century back in time into the lair of some evil lord of the manor."

Tommy laughed. "I am a lord of the manor."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean."

"Power?"

She frowned. That had not been her conscious issue, but now he mentioned it, that made sense. His power often intimidated her. "I meant you're not evil, but yeah, something like that."

"Given the context, this will sound appallingly forward and possibly evil, but there is probably only one room in this house where you would feel my equal, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

Barbara had not yet sipped at her whisky, but Tommy had already downed half his glass. She wondered if it had gone straight to his head. "Your utility room?"

His sudden laugh made her jump. "No, not my utility room. You are not my laundress. I was referring to my bedroom."

"Your... bed-room?"

He looked down. "I told you it would seem forward of me. All the other rooms here are the trappings of my position and title. My bedroom is... well, it's the only room that is Tommy Lynley and not Lord bloody Asherton."

"You want us to talk in your bedroom?" Barbara still could not quite believe he had suggested that.

"I will talk anywhere, but I was merely saying that... that room is the closest to who I am, devoid of pretentiousness and trappings. I want you to understand why what I will say is real for me. In any other room, it... sounds ridiculous. I promise I am not intending to be unseemly, nor am I trying to take advantage of the situation Pamela has put us in."

"I never thought that."

"Then would you mind?"

His face, for once uncertain and scared, seemed to plead with her. If it was a choice of this room or his bedroom, the latter could be no more intimidating. Besides, she had often imagined him sleeping. Now she could see how her imagination compared to reality. "No, I don't mind."

Tommy selected two bottles of whisky then led her upstairs. Barbara had expected him to lead her into a large room on the coveted first-floor, exhibiting splendour and with a sumptuous and welcoming bed, possibly under a canopy. Instead, he continued up the stairs to the third floor and led her to a dark, irregular and poky room.

"Not what you expected?" he asked as she looked around.

The room reminded her of an older teenager's bedroom. A modest bed, larger than a single but barely bigger than hers, was pushed into the far corner. Even from the doorway she could tell the linen was expensive. His crisp white sheets were wrinkle-free and tightly tucked around the mattress. A plain duvet cover in bone linen with a muted pale RAF-blue stipe was pulled halfway up the bed. Like the sheets, it had been tightly tucked, so it sat flat on the bed. Barbara assumed he had mastered bed making at Eton, although she had assumed the rich boys would have maids at their beck and call. A narrow window that looked down over the garden separated his bed from two plain but matching, white-painted, free-standing wardrobes that lined the shortest wall. Beside the door, there was a large chest of drawers. On top sat a wedding photograph in a dusty silver frame where Tommy and Helen looked dour rather than happy. The final wall had a minimalist timber table with an oversized, modern computer monitor and the chargers for his phone and laptop. On the wall above were a few more photographs. One was of his mother when young and with a man who looked like Peter. Barbara assumed he was Tommy's father. Next to that were two pictures of Tommy with powerful-looking horses. Three smaller photos of he and Helen rounded out the small gallery. Barbara stared at those a little longer than was polite. Was Helen looking down on them now? It was hard not to feel uncomfortable.

"Barbara?"

"Oh, sorry. No, I expected you to have a... larger bedroom."

Tommy smiled. It was awkward and self-conscious. "After Helen died, I couldn't stay in our room. I came up here. I prefer it."

Barbara nodded. "It's very functional."

"Functional?"

It reminded Barbara of a modern monk's cell. "It's... minimalist. Nothing more than you need."

"Yes, that's true." Tommy looked around. "Perhaps devoid of personality."

"No, it has a personality. I just never thought of this as who you are."

Tommy's face dropped, and he stepped around her and placing the bottles on his bedside table that was between his desk and bed. He hurriedly turned the photo sitting next to his clock face down. Clearly, he had forgotten that one and did not want her to see it. She ignored his move and looked around for somewhere to sit. Apart from the bed, there was only an uncomfortable-looking stool under his desk. She started to pull it out.

"No, don't sit there. The bed is more comfortable."

Barbara nodded. This was becoming weird. She sat carefully on the edge, concerned she would disturb the linen. The mattress was softer than she had anticipated and she sank into it. Thinking he would sit on the stool, it disturbed her when he stepped out of his shoes and sat beside her. He wriggled back so that his back was against the wall. She turned around and looked at him.

He shrugged. "It's more comfortable like this."

Barbara stood and used her toes to steady the backs of her trainers so she could step out of them without bending to undo them. She sat back down and inched her way back to the wall. Tommy grinned at her, and she relaxed. It felt like she was a teenager again in the room of her best friend and they were about to have another chat in an endless string of 'deep and meaningfuls' about life. When she grinned at him, Tommy raised his glass. "Cheers," she said as she clinked hers against it then took a sip. As its fire seeped through her, she leant back against the wall. "Go for it."

Tommy spluttered his drink. "Pardon?"

Barbara leant away from him. "I meant..." The heat rising in her cheeks only made things worse. "Not like that. I... talk, I meant you can tell me anything."

"I would never take advantage, Barbara."

"I know."

Tommy frowned. "Yes, you hold me to high standards, don't you?"

"You're a gentleman."

"Not always."

"Always with me." She wondered if she had sounded disappointed. Barbara was sure she had given him the wrong signal. "I... you're a wonderful, caring friend, Tommy."

"A friend. Yes, a friend." He sat up straight and stared at her. "Tommy? Did you just call me Tommy?"

"Er, yeah. I guess I did. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Barbara. Don't be sorry. It's a step towards..."

"Towards what?"

"Really being friends. When you constantly call me Sir, it feels like a barrier, as if you keep that last bit of you safe from my evil clutches."

She shook her head. "Nah, more like protect you from mine. I... I don't do vulnerable very well. I didn't want to..." She could not say it.

"Lose me?" Tommy took a long sip from his glass, but his eyes never left her face. "Do you think Pamela was right?"

Barbara looked down. "Maybe. In part. It's always my biggest fear."

"What is?" His voice was tender and caring which made it all so much harder.

"That one day, you will find someone who fulfils you, and you won't need old Havers."

"Oh, Barbara, no. I will always need you."

She smiled tightly, unconvinced. "You say that, but..."

"You fulfil me."

"Nah, I mean in all ways." Tommy looked down, and Barbara knew she was right. For the briefest nanosecond, she had hoped he had meant it.

When he looked up his eyes were soft and mesmerising. "Given where we are sitting, and my previous promise, it is inappropriate for me to answer that the way I would prefer."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You really can't see it, can you _Detective_ Sergeant?"

"See what?"

"That I..." Tommy took a deep breath. "I am in love with you."

"Oh!"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Sorry for the delay, unexpected social obligations...

* * *

"Oh?" Tommy asked. "Is that your way of saying, 'well, this is awkward'?"

Barbara shook her head. "No, it's my way of avoiding any coherent response at all."

"When a man confesses his love, it is polite to respond in some way. Let him know if there is hope or if he has just made a complete fool of himself."

"I wouldn't know. No one has every said that to me before."

Tommy put his hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. "They should have."

She looked away, unable to bear his gaze without tears threatening to spring forth like a geyser. "No. I'm not very loveable."

"That rather depends on who is doing the loving."

She shook her head and dared to look up. "The last person to say they... loved me... was... Terry. He's been dead 25 years. No one has loved me in 25 years." Barbara gasped for breath. Seeing the alarm on his face, she raised her hand to let him know she was okay. She took a minute to compose herself but did not object when Tommy's arm came around her shoulder and pulled her against the warmth of this chest.

"Oh, Barbara. I'm so sorry. But you have been loved. By me."

"You only think that." She started to pull away. "I don't want your pity."

He held her firmly. "It's not pity, it's the truth."

"Still sounds like pity."

"It''s not. It's love. There is an element of empathy though, but that is additional to my love for you. I understand what it's like to have your parents put their needs ahead of yours. And I am just as bad. I put everything ahead of what I knew, in here." Tommy took her hand and held it against his chest. His heart thumped quickly and a little erratic. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"You know my story. A brother who died too young, and parents who shut down."

"Yes, but I don't know how you felt about it. How it affected you."

Barbara looked up at his reassuring smile. "I could see it in their faces. My parents. They wished it had been me, not him. They doted on Terry. I was... just the girl who arrived before their precious son." Despite not wanting to show her vulnerability, she let her head rest on his chest. Tommy began to stroke her hair. Barbara sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'm sure that's not how they saw it, but I can understand it would have seemed that way."

"I... I resented them. They ignored the whole thing, and me. It was if they wanted to forget Terry."

"I remember when we met, you had a shrine to him in your house."

"I created it. I wanted to force them to react, to feel. The more I pushed, the more they withdrew."

Tommy kissed the top of her head. "People do. It's how they cope."

"By running away?"

He tightened his grip. "Yes. I did. After my father. What happened was too painful to confront, so I tried to bury it. I... it took me years to come to terms with it."

Barbara looked up. "Have you?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I worked out a position I could tolerate. When I tried to explain to Helen, she accused me of being an angst-ridden teenager about it. She was probably correct. I never moved past my seventeen-year-old response, so... yes, she was right."

"No, she wasn't. You can't help how you felt, and she had no right to judge if she hadn't gone through it."

Tommy placed another soft kiss on her head. "You're always my defender aren't you? Even when I'm wrong. That's one thing I treasure about you. You help me find the truth for myself."

"What did you do? After you told Helen? Was that when she...?"

"Left me? No, I told her that weekend we were at Howenstowe for our engagement. All the time, I kept wondering whether if I had told you it would have been different."

"You should have."

He shook his head. "No, I had made my choice. I thought it was best for everyone. So I tried to grow up and ignore it."

"But you can't ignore it, can you?"

"Making the wrong choice or my past? I struggle to reconcile both."

"It was the right choice... at the time. I... would have run a mile if you had tried to... become closer. Although you could have told me about your dad. I would have understood that, and maybe I could have helped. I dunno. We'll never know will we, but I wouldn't have told you to grow up."

"No, you wouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry I never said. But if I follow my heart now are you suggesting it might be looked on favourably by you?"

"I can't run very far now, Tommy."

He chuckled. "Good, but do you want to run?"

Barbara snuggled against him. "Nah, I don't think so, but... there's a lot to think about."

"It's simple, really."

She lifted her head. "No, this is... far from simple."

"It could be simple."

"Maybe, but I think I see that bloody doctor's point. Two broken people don't make a whole. We have to... unbreak."

"Unbreak? You mean mend?"

"No, I am not sure of the right word, Mr Pedantic, but mending is like patching something. We have to find a way back to before they broke us, then move forward."

He put his other arm around her and hugged her close. "As lovely as that sounds, none of us can turn back time. We can't unbreak, Barbara. As much as I want to, I don't know how."

"You know my story, Tommy. Will you tell me yours?"

"Yes, but are you changing the subject?"

"No. I am trying to unbreak us."

"I don't know how you can achieve that."

"I don't know if I can, but we should try. We owe each other that, don't you think? We owe ourselves."

"Yes, we do."

* * *

Half an hour later, Barbara was holding Tommy as he had held her. If his mother had been there, she would have gladly cut her throat for what she had done to Tommy.

"So, that's it. My mother was having it off with my father's doctor while Dad was dying in another room. In estranging Mother, I abandoned Peter, and he became a drug addict. I tried half-heartedly to kill myself only to be saved by John Corntel who I then repaid by letting him down badly. I married my friend because I thought she was the only one who cared about me, but that was a mistake. Then we worked out a future that could work, but someone took that away too, so went back to what I knew, trying to kill myself bottle by bottle. Speaking of which."

"Does it help?"

Tommy shook his head. "Not really, it's a habit, although it dulls my pain when I'm alone."

"You're not alone, Tommy." Barbara made sure that he was looking at her before moving closer and letting him rest his cheek on her shoulder.

"No, I'm not, am I? And neither are you."

Barbara sensed where this conversation was heading. She was not ready for that. "It's only early. We could go out for food."

"Food? You know for a moment there I thought you would kiss me."

"Not my place."

Tommy unwound his arms from her and sat up. He looked her in the eye. "If you mean because I should make the first approach, then I would be happy to do that. More than happy. If you meant you are not comfortable with the surroundings, we can move. Anywhere. Downstairs. Outside. Westminster Bridge."

"Westminster Bridge?"

"It's romantic."

"It's crowded and full of tourists with their cameras flashing."

"Trafalgar Square by the fountain?"

"No"

"St James's Park?" She shook her head, so he tried again, "Hyde Park? The moon. Mars...?"

Barbara smiled. "Food first, then we can discuss the possibility of a kiss sometime in the future."

Tommy's cheeky smile broke into a broad grin. "If you're sure."

"Positive."

"I just use the bathroom. Do you need to use it too?"

"We're not that close yet that we can share, Thomas Lynley."

She enjoyed watching his face flush. It was unusual to see him lost for words. He shook his head and disappeared out the door. Barbara sat back against the wall and closed her eyes. Tommy loved her. She had known that, but not that it was a love beyond that of a friend. She grinned. If it was true, there were so many ways she wanted to show him her love. She opened her eyes and looked around. Would it be in here? This spartan room that he said was his true persona. Tommy was not austere. She wondered if he had just shut himself away trying to find who he was. She glanced at the photo frame beside the bed that he had turned face down. She expected it was Tommy and Helen in a happy moment, a moment she should not disturb. She counted to ten, but the urge was still there. She picked it up by the corner and took a peek. It was not Helen. It was a grainy photo of her on a case. She picked up the frame to look more closely as she recalled the day. A poor young constable had inadvertently trampled over vital evidence and she had let fly. Barbara could not remember Tommy using his camera yet he had captured her as she had glanced towards him. Her eyes glowed green like a Halloween witch. Her hair and clothes were dishevelled, and she looked as if she was ready to kill someone, and yet Tommy had captured a brief nanosecond of calm when she had looked at him.

"I took that on the Williams murder case."

"Sorry." Barbara hastily put the photo back. "I was prying. I..."

"It's okay. I had my phone out to make a call, but you were so angry and it amused me. I surreptitiously took a few photos. When I looked on the monitor, all I could see in all that anger was love when you saw me. It... was genuine and raw, and that meant everything."

"Oh, Tommy... I do love you."

His smile was the goofiest she had ever seen before it softened into one of those looks she treasured. For a few long seconds, they just stared at each other, silently reaffirming that they meant it. Tommy broke the moment and walked towards the bed. He extended his hand. "Before I overstep the mark and make love to you, I think we had better go for that dinner."


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note**: warning, mild sex scenes... This is a shorter chapter, but if you are good, there will be a extra M chapter added separately tomorrow, so make sure your filters allow it if you want to read it.

* * *

"Back to that pub?" Barbara asked as she bent down to put on her shoes.

"Is that where you want to go? I could ring and see if they could fit us in."

"Nah, I was just being silly. It seemed quirky at the time, now it seems a bit... romantic."

Tommy nodded. "It was, but I just meant it to be a quiet place where we could plot our approach for Dr Thomas. Ready? But romantic is good. We could go back and take advantage."

She shook her head. "Nah, not yet. Next week once we..."

Tommy smiled. He could not help it. Barbara had just implied that they would soon be lovers, in every sense of the word. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Where would you like to go?"

"Pizza maybe?"

"Mario's is only a short walk. This way." Tommy led her to the stairs.

"Perfect." Barbara let out a low chuckle and continued to laugh to herself as they descended.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Just thinking about the other night."

Tommy bristled. "Why was it funny?"

"Our plan went well, didn't it? We spent the night working out answers for everything about Hillier, and how we worked together, me being shot..." She paused. "And Helen's death, and the first thing she does is go bam, you both love each other but nothing will happen until you fix your abandonment issues."

"She didn't say we were in love."

"She may as well have been that obvious." She adopted a rigid pose. "I believe you both suffer from abandonment issues that prevent you from becoming as close as you would both like to be."

Tommy nearly fell down the final flight of stairs, and made a noise that he hid beneath a hasty cough. "She was correct."

"In other words, your pasts are standing in the way of shagging each other senseless."

This time Tommy did not cough, he nearly choked. "Barbara!"

She stood in his hallway with her hands on her hips. "So you don't want to shag me senseless?"

Tommy wanted nothing more. He doubted if he kissed her now that they would make it back upstairs to his bedroom. "Of course I do. Well, no, that's not fair. I want us to make love, endlessly and gently."

Now Barbara smiled. "Yeah, so do I, but... bend down."

"What?"

"Just come closer."

Tommy leant over as Barbara stood on tippy-toes to whisper in his ear. "Havers! Dear Lord. I never imagined..."

"Didn't you?"

He had of course dreamt of exactly those things. He looked down at her. Under his gaze, she tucked part of her bottom lip under her front teeth. He could see her uncertainty mixed with fear but underlain by an almost palpable desire. Lying was futile. They needed to be completely honest, and Barbara had just trusted him enough to make a suggestion he very much wanted to act on. "Yes. Oh, god, yes."

Barbara looked down. "You think I'm crass for saying that. I guess no noble woman would suggest that."

"You would be surprised, but I..." He bent down and whispered in her ear.

He laughed as her eyes went wide. "Oh, I think I'd enjoy that. A lot."

"Do you still want dinner?"

Barbara shook her head. "Not really, but... I'm not very good at this physical stuff."

Tommy took a step closer. "Says who?"

"You should know. I'm not a virgin."

Tommy was unsure how to respond. "And you think that would bother me?"

She shrugged. "I had a one night stand a year or so before we met. It hurt and wasn't very enjoyable, and he didn't like it much either. It only lasted about a minute."

Tommy put his arm around her shoulder. He understood now that he had a responsibility to Barbara to ensure she felt loved and protected. "I promise I will take it slowly. I won't hurt you, and it will last far longer than a minute, but anything that happens goes at your pace. If you want to stop, at any time, we can."

"I just realised, when Terry died, that would have been about the sane time as your Dad."

Tommy frowned at her sudden change of tack. "Yes, 25 years ago."

"Were you a virgin then?"

"What? Well, yes. I... the next year was when I was seduced by an older woman. Why?"

"Because that was before we were broken. Maybe... nah, I'm being silly."

He gave her a reassuring shoulder hug. "No, I doubt that."

"We both missed out on that bumbling teenage discovery of love and sex."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

She shook her head. "What if we go back. To then. Remember what it was like. Go forward slowly."

"Unbroken?"

"Yeah, and full of hope, not fear of abandonment."

Tommy choked back a tear. "I'll ring Mario's and order a pizza, then we can watch TV and pretend we're in the back row of the movies."

Barbara nodded. "That sounds perfect."

* * *

It was nearly six in the morning when Tommy yawned. "Are you awake?"

"Barely." Barbara snuggled closer in his arms.

"Me too, but I just wanted to remind you that I love you."

"You had to wake me to tell me that after the last twelve hours?"

Tommy kissed her forehead. "Yes, because seventeen-year-old boys are insecure."

Barbara laughed then kissed his neck. "Don't be. That was incredible. Really. Now go to sleep."

Tommy answered with a soft kiss on her hair. He was tired, but he wanted to relive everything. Their lovemaking had been special. Before the pizza arrived, they had tentatively kissed in his hallway. Barbara had been shaking. It was only when their lips first touched that he realised that he was nervous too. That helped because it made them both relax a little yet fit exactly into the mindset Barbara had explained.

Their dinner had been a well-timed interruption. They had laughed and joked as they watched an Asian game show. They did not understand a word, but it the facial expressions and slapstick physical stupidity appealed to his re-found teenage sense of humour. Slowly, they had played their roles until they were teenagers again. Awkward experimental kisses that eventually turned very steamy once they learnt each other's needs morphed into shy fumbling over their clothes, then after a while under them, layer by layer getting closer to their goal.

"You thinking about earlier?" Barbara asked sleepily.

"Yes, how did you know?"

She laughed softly. "It's fairly obvious."

Tommy shifted so that his groin no longer pressed against her. "I'm sorry."

Her hand clamped over his back and she levered herself closer. "Oh, don't be."

"Really? Again?"

"Only if you can manage it."

He chuckled. "Seventeen year-olds recover very quickly." He kissed her gently. "You are a genius by the way."

"Thank you for finally noticing."

They laughed as they kissed which made it rather pointless. Tommy caressed her face. "You are, because you worked out a way to unbreak us and move forward."

"Yeah, I guess I did. Should I confess it was accidental? It was only when I thought about the cavern between your sexual experience and mine, and then I realised we both missed out on the foundation steps."

"We made up for that, but I am glad we could share it. It makes our lovemaking more special."

Barbara reached up and kissed him in an unmistakable invitation. Tommy snuggled home, just where he wanted to be forever.


End file.
